


It Suits the Artist

by Lerysakon



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Piningjolras, Tatoo!Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lerysakon/pseuds/Lerysakon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before he could ponder on his thoughts, Courfeyrac spoke. “Well, what are you waiting for, R? Strip.”</p><p>Grantaire rolled his eyes at him. “I should be getting paid for this.”</p><p>“Well you’re not. Now, off you go! Show our dear leader your lovely tattoo.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <sub>Based on a prompt on Tumblr </sub></p>
            </blockquote>





	It Suits the Artist

If there was anything Enjolras hated more than social injustice, it was his meetings being interrupted. This was why he found it irritating whenever any of his friends did not arrive to their meetings on time. This was also why he got tetchy whenever his speeches were disrupted by anything that he deemed unrelated or unimportant to the cause. And, this was also why he often found himself involved in rather heated debates with a certain cynic who not only interjects his discourses with cynical retorts but also makes sure that he was often unpunctual to their gatherings.

So, imagine Enjolras’ surprise when, the moment he entered the Musain, he immediately caught sight of that familiar head of dark riotous curls amongst his already gathered friends. Most of them were already there. Only Bahorel and Feuilly haven’t arrived yet. He glanced at his watch to see if, perhaps, he was the one who came in late but, as usual, he was on time. Fifteen minutes early, in fact.

He directed his attention back to his friends, often darting back to the owner of those said curls. They all seemed to be engrossed in some kind of humorous conversation that, for some reason, had most of them focusing on Grantaire. None of the group noticed his arrival. The only one who didn’t look involved in the discussion was Combeferre, who was currently reading a considerably thick text book. Although, Enjolras knew that his best friend was still partly listening to the others. It was remarkable, really: Combeferre’s ability to concentrate on his studies yet, at the same time, still pay attention to what was happening to his friends.

Enjolras headed to the empty seat beside Combeferre as the latter nodded at him in acknowledgment.

“What’s happening?” He asked as he started to take out the notes needed for the meeting. Their agenda for that day was raising awareness on freedom of speech that, with the insistence of Cosette, Eponine, and Musichetta, focused on the prejudice and misogyny that often accompanied the issue. It was a subject he felt strongly about and he was eager to get the meeting started for it. The faster the ongoing conversation amongst his friends ended the better.

“Well-“ Combeferre began when he was instantly cut off by a loud exclamation from Courfeyrac.

“Enjolras, you’re here! Hey, hey Enj! Woohoo! Enj! There’s no use ignoring me, you know, coz I’ll keep annoying you until you give me attention! And, I’m sure you know that I can be very annoying!” Enjolras bit back a groan of irritation because, yes, he was perfectly aware that Courfeyrac can (and will) be annoying until he got what he wanted. Call it personal experience. With that thought in mind, Enjolras glanced up with the full intention of directing his attention at Courfeyrac. However, to his utter chagrin, his eyes betrayed him by missing the target and focusing on the man beside Courfeyrac instead, catching a glimpse of those insanely blue eyes reminiscent of electricity, and that strong jaw coated with faint stubble. The glance lasted for a split-second before he determinedly turned his gaze to Courfeyrac, who had this infuriatingly knowing smirk on his face. The narrowing of the blonde’s eyes only seemed to make the other’s smirk widen even more.

“What is it, Courfeyrac?” Enjolras asked, resolutely looking at the said man, not allowing his gaze to veer off to the side. Wait, was Grantaire wearing a slightly fitted shirt instead of his baggy hoodie? _Damn it, Enjolras, focus!_

For God’s sake, could Grantaire just leave his peripheral vision for just a few minutes and stop tempting him to take another glimpse.

“We were just talking about Grantaire’s new tattoo! Well, I suppose it’s not that new if he got it weeks ago – but it is new since it just completely healed recently.” Jehan spoke. “He designed it himself.”

“I can’t understand why you’d get a tattoo! Did you think about the numerous ailments you could’ve gotten with those needles? And the ink? Are you aware of its risks to your internal organs? Like the liver? Oh God! You should go to the doctor and get a check-up and--”

“Calm down, Joly.”

“Calm down?! I can’t just calm down when—”

Musichetta instantly surged forward and silenced him with a kiss while Bousset soothingly traced circles on the hypochondriac’s back while nuzzling his neck.

Enjolras would’ve frowned upon these displays of affection if not for the fact that he was rather preoccupied with an internal argument wherein his mind was trying to convince his body not to react to the statement about their topic of conversation. Unfortunately, his eyes were horrible traitors that decided to thoroughly skim Grantaire’s body, as if searching for this infamous tattoo.

No luck.

Grantaire’s awfully baggy pants and maddeningly long-sleeved shirt did a great job of deterring Enjolras from pleasing his curiosity – because that’s all he was. _Just_ curious. Although, the shirt wasn’t all that bad, he supposed. It did put emphasis on those delightful collarbones that he wouldn’t mind li— _Tattoos_! They were talking about a new tattoo! Not Grantaire’s definitely-not-appealingly carved clavicle. For Patria’s sake, _they had an agenda here!_

“And?” Enjolras forced himself to drawl, not giving away any signs of what was on his mind. “This concerns me, how?”

“It doesn’t. I’m just grabbing every opportunity to make Grantaire show off his tattoo.” Courfeyrac replied in a casual tone – a far too casual tone. “His art needs to be appreciated after all.”

Grantaire, who didn’t appear to notice Enjolras’ eyes on him – _thank God_ – raised a brow at the other curly-haired man. “If I am to be perpetually subjected to the cold air then I don’t think I want my art to be appreciated.”

Courfeyrac stared at the artist with a completely serious expression. “It’s a necessary sacrifice, Grantaire. It is your utmost duty! I know it is difficult for you to give up earthly possessions such as clothes but you must endure it! It’s for the good of all mankind!” He delivered the last few words with dramatic flourish that only a Performing Arts student could manage, earning him a snort from Grantaire and a chuckle from Jehan.

Cosette giggled as she leaned against a very flustered-looking Marius. “You can drop the act, Courf. We all know your true intentions here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You just like seeing R strip.” Eponine added with an impish smile.

Courfeyrac grinned. “That too.”

Wait, _what?_ Did Courfeyrac just say – no, actually, Enjolras didn’t have to think about it. He didn’t want to think about. He _shouldn’t_ be thinking about it. _Why the hell was he thinking about it?!_

Before he could ponder on his thoughts, Courfeyrac spoke. “Well, what are you waiting for, R? Strip.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes at him. “I should be getting paid for this.”

“Well you’re not. Now, off you go! Show our dear leader your lovely tattoo.”

That was when Grantaire’s gaze met Enjolras’ stare and the blonde had to resist the urge to visibly gulp. The artist was looking at him with a questioning raise of a brow, though, when he looked closer, there seemed to be a hint of apprehension present as well.

Not trusting his voice – oh, the _irony_ – to keep his discomfort and _curiosity_ a secret, Enjolras simply kept his carefully crafted poker-face and shrugged, leaving the decision to Grantaire if he was going to give into Courfeyrac’s demand or not. Enjolras was definitely not hoping for the former.

“Just get on with it.” Bousset spoke. “Courfeyrac’s not going to shut up about it until you do.”

“And you know me and my _mouth_.” Courfeyrac added with suggestive grin, earning him eye-rolls from nearly everyone present.

Enjolras _did not mentally gulp_ when Grantaire finally stood up and, with a nonchalant shrug, started to – _dear god –_ lift his shirt. Was it just him or did room become warmer all of a sudden? He tried to look away, really he did, but his eyes – _bloody traitors that they were_ – only continued to trail up the skin being revealed inch-by-inch. If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn that Grantaire’s slow movements were infuriatingly deliberate and, _dear Patria_ , where had Grantaire been hiding all of _that._

Courfeyrac let out a sound that was a mix of a groan and a sigh. “Goddamn, R, never quit boxing.”

Grantaire snorted as he completely removed his shirt.

Enjolras wasn’t really a big fan of tattoos. He didn’t disapprove of them; per se. It really wasn’t any of his business if people decided to embed ink into their skin, so he hadn’t really thought much about it.

Until now, that is.

Both of Grantaire’s arms were tattooed – and Enjolras cannot find it in him to deny that it suited Grantaire. It suited Grantaire _really_ well.

On the artist’s left shoulder was a black-inked sun with its rays swirling outwards – some almost reaching his collarbone and some twirling down his upper limbs, gradually transitioning into grapevines which covered his forearm in a harmony of blacks, greens, and purples.

There were also words inked in an elegant script just below Grantaire’s left clavicle. It read _‘I am wild’_. Enjolras definitely did _not_ have a mental image how _wild_ Grantaire could be.

Tearing his eyes away from those words, Enjolras’ gaze landed on what he surmised was the new tattoo they were talking about. It was hard to miss as it ranged from Grantaire’s upper right chest to just below his elbow. Enjolras wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be but the design looked tribal yet, at the same time, it didn’t. The only thing Enjolras distinguished from it was the likeness of chains overlapping the myriad of black ink.

“Wait, wait! That’s not the cool part!” Eponine exclaimed. “Show it, R!”

With a sigh that made Enjolras wonder just how many times they had already asked Grantaire to do this, the dark-haired man turned around then stretched his right arm to the side and –

Enjolras inhaled sharply, though only the knowingly-smiling Combeferre was able to catch it.

With Grantaire’s arm outstretched, the myriad of black ink became clear.

It was a wing. A wing with chains wrapped around it. Enjolras didn’t really want to think of its symbolism in regards to the cynic but it looked – well, it looked quite – was there even a proper word to describe the artwork – _designed by Grantaire himself –_ that graced the artist’s arm?

“So, Enj, what do you think of it?” Courfeyrac asked, jarring Enjolras from his thoughts. There was a sly grin on the Irishman’s lips which earned him a scathing glare from the blonde. “Come on. You must have an _interesting_ opinion about it.”

Enjolras was just about to say something along the lines of this being unimportant to the cause and speaking about it was just a waste of time when he caught sight of the almost hopeful look in Grantaire’s eyes and his words immediately died in his throat. For a moment, he mused about how, sometimes, Grantaire wore his heart on his sleeve – his feelings becoming so clear that one couldn’t help but feel a fraction of it as well. This was one of those times.

However, there were times wherein Grantaire would become especially closed off from everyone – his emotions practically unreadable. Often enough, it was the air he wore whenever an argument sparked between the two of them. Enjolras would never admit it out loud, but he didn’t like seeing that unreadable expression on the cynic’s face. It didn’t suit him at all.

Enjolras cleared his throat as he looked away from Grantaire who was in the process of donning back his shirt. “We don’t have time for this. We have an important agenda for today.” He announced. Then, noticing the flash of disappointment that came over the artist’s face before it instantly slid into that unreadable mask Enjolras didn’t like, the leader, before he could even stop himself from doing so, blurted out. “But, it is rather aesthetically pleasing, I suppose.” He chanced a glance at the artist before bringing his focus back to the room at large.

Never mind Courfeyrac and Bousset’s sniggering, or Eponine and Cosette’s amused look, or even Combeferre’s quiet chuckle.

That grin that graced the other man’s face would’ve lit the entire room.

And if the image of the said grin constantly made its way into the forefront of Enjolras’ mind throughout the entire meeting, the leader couldn’t really find it in him to be bothered by it.

After all, as much as those tattoos suited the artist, Enjolras couldn’t help but think that that grin of absolute delight suited him a lot more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came from a Tumblr prompt I found (I can’t find it anymore because the blog it was on cannot be found anymore OTL)… but basically it’s a prompt that featured PiningJolras and his reaction when Grantaire gets a tattoo in a place that requires him to take off his shirt (like his chest)… or something like that. If you recognize this prompt, please link me to it. 
> 
> This was going to be humorous throughout but it became fluff... I dunno what happened... oh well, it's still e/R :)))
> 
> Anyway, wow, I actually finished an e/R fanfic?! I'm just glad I was finally able to contribute a fanfic for this OTP! I have a lot of unfinished one-shots about them so, shhh, this is a big accomplishment for me. 
> 
> And, if you want to be friends or just say 'hi', I reside in this lovely place called Tumblr under the username [lerrryyyyy](http://lerrryyyyy.tumblr.com/)~


End file.
